Saintly
by shuggabawlz
Summary: A year after the brothers were sent to prison, the powers that be, having conveniently arranged their release, set Connor and Murphy on a new path when a new organization moves into Boston. However, they will have a little bit of help from old friends and new. Rated M for language (obviously), drug/alcohol use, and implied sexual situations. Connor/OC.
1. Chapter 1

1.

 _How the hell do I get myself into these things?_ Maggie wrapped her bomber jacket tighter around herself to ward off the icy breeze that had just picked up. She leaned against her old, beat up Volkswagen bus and wondered if the word hell was worthy of a drop in the cursing jar sitting back at the bar. Was _hell_ really a curse word anymore? Certainly the dear sisters at St. Anthony's middle school would argue a resounding 'yes'. Then she would get ten raps on the wrist for uttering such a profanity.

A puff of steam billowed out of her mouth as she let out a slow breath. It made her want a cigarette. She missed smoking and often contemplated taking up the habit again just for the hell of it. A loud siren blasted, turning her attention to the wire fence that housed the prison yard. Moments later several inmates of the most notorious maximum-security prison in the state wandered out for their hour of fresh air.

Reaching into her jacket pocket, she pulled out her sunglasses. The bright sun reflecting off of the snow was blinding. Her thoughts drifted back to the reason she was hanging out in front of The Hoag in the first place.

 _The sun was barely up when Father O'Donnell showed up at the bar. She was still trying to sleep off the late night before, having worked until closing. She invited him in for coffee, and it didn't take long for him to get to the point of his visit._

" _I need you to pick someone up for me day after tomorrow," he said, "and give 'im a place to stay for a few days."_

" _Father, you know that I've been trying to keep my nose clean. And I've got a lot of stuff going on..."_

" _This is a very special person, Maggie," Father O'Donnell insisted._

He quickly filled her in on the plan. What he could tell her anyway. She had the distinct feeling that he was holding something back. But, being from a staunch catholic family, Maggie's Da had made it clear that when a priest comes knocking for a favor, you don't say 'no'.

It didn't make the flavor of the plan any more palatable _._

An uproar from the yard brought her back to the present. The inmates had gathered at the edge of the yard where a fenced corridor stretched from the gates in front of her back to the Hoag's main building. A series of whistles and yelling echoed across the yard. Another siren sounded, and gates squeaked open slowly.

Connor McManus, dressed in a pair of ripped jeans and a black t-shirt, stood at the gate with two guards flanking him on either side. Even from where she stood, she could see the cuts and bruises on his face. He had nothing with him, save an over sized manilla envelope that he carried in his unbandaged hand. When the gate stopped in the open position, Connor limped his way to freedom.

Maggie waited until he was well away from the gate and made eye contact before acknowledging him. "Connor,"

He shielded his eyes against the bright sun, but she could see the mistrust in his expression. He approached cautiously.

"Name's Maggie," she said. "Father O'Donnell sent me to pick you up."

He stopped. "Did he now?"

Maggie's jaw ticked. "You look like shit." Oops. She gave herself a mental kick and reminded herself to make a deposit in the jar when she got back to the bar. Not to mention the fact that insulting the man was not the most eloquent way to win his trust. She took a breath and counted to ten. "I've got a hot shower and a meal waiting." She shivered again. "Now, if you don't mind, I do have other things to do today. And I'm freezing."

Connor seemed to be considering her offer, but Maggie was not in the mood for indecision. "Fine," she said, and walked around the bus to the driver's side. By the time she climbed into the seat, Connor was already closing his door. She watched him for a moment as he settled into the uncomfortable seat. "Good.

"Where are we going?" Connor finally asked after what seemed like a million hours of silence.

"Some place safe," she answered. "I told Father O'Donnell that I'd give you a place to crash for a couple of days. Then they will send for you."

"They?"

Maggie kept her eyes on the road and said nothing.

Connor began looking around the van, digging through the various empty containers that were at his feet, then moving on to the console.

"Looking for something?" Maggie asked, not even trying to hide her annoyance.

"Got any smokes?"

"Glove box."

Conner retrieved a half crushed pack of cigarettes. He opened the manila envelope in his lap and dug out his zippo. With a quick flick, his cigarette was lit. He offered her the pack.

"No thanks."

He shrugged and turned his attention back to his envelope. Not wanting to pry, Maggie kept her eyes forward, but in her peripheral she could see him pull out a string of beads with a large cross at the end. Without a thought, he pulled it on over his head. Then he turned his attention to the passing landscape outside his window.

She stole a glance at him. He looked tired; like he hadn't slept the entire year he had been locked up. She felt a sudden pang of empathy. She knew firsthand what being on the inside could do to person - even a person with a reputation like Conner McManus - having your freedom taken away was only the beginning of the nightmare. Getting released and trying to live a normal life was a whole other monster all together. His set jaw told her that he had plans now that he was out. She had a good idea what that might be.

"Where are we headed?"

Maggie jumped and snapped her eyes back to the road, feeling more than a little foolish that he may have felt her eyes on him. "I was thinking that since your a free man and all, a celebratory shot might be in order." He turned to look at her. This time she met his gaze. Then he smiled.

2.

"I never thought I'd see this place again," Connor said as Maggie pulled the van in front of McGinty's Pub thirty minutes later. To his surprise, she didn't stop. Instead, she drove down a block and pulled into the ally behind the bar.

"Why the back?" he asked.

She put the van into park and sat back to watch him. "There's a possibility that someone might have eyes on the place. Better safe than sorry. Come on, we're late already.

"For what?"

"The wake," she said as if it was most natural thing in the world. "I need to get inside before the natives get restless."

The pieces began to fall into place. As she opened the door, he grabbed her wrist. "Margaret McGinty. You're Doc's kid, huh?"

Her whole body stiffened. She narrowed his eyes at him before jerking her arm back. "You don't miss much, do you?"

"Hey, I didn't mean to..."

"And don't call me Margaret. That's reserved for my parole officer and my da." The door slammed shut behind her. Conner sighed. _You really have a way with the women, asshole._ He shook his head, he had more important things to give a shit about. Like finding out what happened to Murphy and getting his brother out of the can.

A loud rap on the window pulled his attention back to the present. Maggie banged on the glass with her fist.

"You comin'?"

He climbed out of the van and started for the back door. She grabbed his elbow. "Listen, I'm doing this as a favor. But if you're gonna be crashing here for a few days, the least you can do is come in, sling a few shots, swap a few stories with the lads, and keep your ass out of trouble." She growled and stomped her feet on the ground. "Another fucking quarter. Now that's two. Come on before I owe the jar my next three paychecks."

Connor cocked his head and smiled as she walked away. "Whose wake?"

She stopped at the door and glanced back over her shoulder. "Doc's." She yanked open the service entrance to the bar and disappeared inside. Connor watched her go. She was a strange one indeed.

It took a moment for her eyes to adjust to the darkness of the storage room as the door closed, shutting out the bright, snowy afternoon behind her. She didn't need light to make her way to the far door that led into the bar. She stopped briefly, put a smile on her face and stepped into the smoke filled bar. A round of cheers went around at her arrival. The bar was full, mostly regular, but also a few new folks who had wandered in off the street.

"Maggie, me dear, I was wonderin' if ye were goin' to make it." Jim Flannery, one of Doc's oldest friends, sat at the end of the bar with a pint in front of him.

She smiled at him, pulling her ginger hair back, twisting it into a messy bun, and secured it with a hair clip. "You know I wouldn't miss this one, Jimmy." She turned to the young man wiping up a spilled drink from behind the bar. "Thanks for lookin' out for the place, Brad."

Brad smiled warmly. "No problem, Maggie. Anything for you and Doc."

She returned the smile and clapped him on the shoulder. "You're drinks are on the house tonight, luv. Now get out from behind my bar."

"Where'd you go anyway?" Brad asked taking his usual stool near the service area.

"I brought you all a gift," she said. Most of the bar turned its attention to her now. She turned to look behind her. "If he decides to make an appearance."

On cue, Connor walked through the door, and bar erupted into a barrage yells and curses. He was shepherded around the bar into hug after hug, greeted, kissed, and welcomed by everyone inside. Maggie watched from behind the bar. Everyone seemed to liven up, even Connor. She knew that in his heart that he couldn't stop thinking about his brother, but for just a moment, he looked at peace. It suited him, she decided.

She was well aware of the McManus legacy. Hell, anyone who lived within a two hundred mile radius of Boston knew of the brothers. But watching Connor now, it was almost hard to believe that he, along with his brother and father, had killed dozens of men (all of whom deserved their fate), calling a halt to the entire Italian and Russian mafias in Boston, all in the name of a higher power. It had been a blood bath. She had seen it up close. And it had changed her life forever. She wondered idly if she would every be able to forgive the McManus family for that.

Her thoughts drifted to her father. The reason they were gathered at the bar that day. He had loved Connor and Murphy like they were his own. And they had looked after him, as well. He would tell her that she must forgive them. That what they did was for the glory of God, something bigger than herself, she scowled. She had no need for such fairy tales. She hadn't seen the inside of a church in almost five years. Connor had situated himself at the end of the bar, talking to two men who appeared to be old drinking buddies.

"How the hell did you get out?" the taller of the two ask. "You got a life sentence, didn't you?"

Connor slugged back another shot that had been bought for him, and Maggie was amazed that he was still able to talk straight. "Right place at the right time," he said. "Believe it or not, I helped stop a riot. And kept the governor's cop son from getting his throat slit. I guess he thought it deserved a pardon."

Maggie set an empty pint glass under the keg tap and started pouring another beer while she eavesdropped. She had to admit that she had been curious (but too much of a chicken shit to ask) how exactly Connor had gotten himself released from prison.

"Maggie, dear," Jim was calling. He pointed to the clock behind the bar. "It's time."

She nodded and reached for the bottle of whiskey on the top shelf behind the bar. She lined the shot glasses up neatly and began to pour. When the glasses were full, she rang the bell at the back of the bar one time. On a normal evening, the bell was used to let everyone that last call was in effect. This night, however, she rang it in tribute.

The bar quieted and all eyes were on Maggie. She swallowed hard and raised a shot. "Top of the hour lads."

Each of them filed up to the bar to collect their glass. "This is for Doc." She paused and cleared her throat. "Or as everyone else knew him..." She stopped short, glanced at the curse jar glaring at her from the corner of the bar, and then shifted her gaze to Conner. He seemed to understand.

"Here's to FUCK ASS!" he said loudly. "Slainte!"

"Slainte!" the crowd answered.

Maggie let out a long breath as the bar chatter resumed. It was done. Out of the corner of her eye, she could see Connor watching her. She met his gaze, then nodded and gave him a small smile of thanks. He returned the gesture before turning and disappearing into the crowd once again.

After the last person had left, and Maggie stood behind the bar counting her earnings for the night. It had been a busy evening and she was silently grateful that Connor had been there. He had stepped up and helped her out when she began to get overwhelmed. Now that it was all over, she felt drained and wanted nothing more than to climb upstairs and crawl into bed. She didn't even look up when the front door chimed.

"The bar's closed," she called.

"Even for someone who wants to pay his respects to the deceased?"

Maggie stopped mid-count and looked up. She glared at the man across the bar. Mikey O'Rourke stood only a foot away from her, and it made her skin crawl. Glancing behind him, she saw two of his goons standing by the door. "Did you forget about the restraining order, Mikey? Or should I call the cops and have your ass thrown in jail to remind you?"

"Easy, Luv," Mikey said, holding his hands up innocently. "As I said, I'm just here to pay my respects to your father."

"Bullshit," she said. "What do you want?"

Mikey dropped his hands. His smile faded to a scowl. "Word's out that Connor McManus has been released from prison. I know that Doc was close to the family. I was just wondering if he had been around. You know, to pay his respects."

Maggie chewed the inside of her cheek. Mikey was never good at the whole passive aggressive thing. He was trying to intimidate her. She would have none of it. "I've gone legit, Mikey. As you can see, I'm just trying to earn an honest living."

He raised an eyebrow. "Really?" Without warning, he reached across the bar and grabbed her wrist. He wrenched it and pushed up her sleeve. "What about your beauty marks here?"

Maggie stared down at her arm. Even the brightly colored tattoo that ran from her shoulder to her wrist couldn't cover up the track scars. She wrenched her arm away from him. "Those are ancient history," she hissed.

"What's going on here, then?"

They turned their attention to the new voice. Connor stood behind Maggie, carrying a case of beer in his arms. He set the box on the bar.

"Nothing," Maggie said. "He was just leaving."

Mikey looked from Connor to Maggie. "Oh, you've gone legit, alright. You must be the infamous Connor McManus. Tell me, Maggie, how long did it take you to start sucking his dick?"

Connor took a step forward but was stopped by Maggie.

Then he looked at Connor. Then he laughed. "I still haven't met anyone who does it as good as she does."

Having enough, Maggie grabbed the glass of whiskey in front of her and threw it in his face. He howled loudly.

"You stupid bitch!"

By the time he had wiped the whiskey from his face, Connor was already over the bar and ready to swing. Maggie pulled her sawed off Winchester from under the bar and pointed it at Mikey's face. At the door, Mikey's thugs also had their weapons drawn. Mikey motioned for them to hold.

"Now, now, Maggie," he said. "There's no need for..."

"Get your ass out of my bar," Maggie said.

Mikey put his hands up again. "Alright, Maggie, girl, alright. We're going." He backed up to the door. "Doyle is going to love knowing that you've got a McManus hold up in your place. Oh, and if you ever need a history lesson," he pointed at her arm, "I'm the man you're looking for." Then he glared at Connor. "And I'm sure I'll be seeing you again."

Then he was gone. Maggie dropped the rifle on the table.

Connor walked to the door and secured it when they were gone. This was not what he had been expecting on his first day out of prison. "What the fuck was that all about?" Connor said, moving back to the bar.

"How about a drink first?" Maggie pulled two shot glasses down and filled them up with whiskey. She noticed Connor looking at her still exposed arm. She didn't bother to try and hide it. "I dropped out my senior year of college when I started using. My life was kind of fucked at the time." She reached in her pocket, pulled out a dollar bill, and tossed it in the jar.

Connor raised an eyebrow. "I thought you only threw in quarters."

She shrugged before picking up the bottle again. "Call it a preemptive strike. Anyway, Da cut me off when he found out what I was up to." She paused to toss back her drink and refresh both of the glasses. "So, I did what most junkies do when they run out of money for their habit. I started selling...drugs among other things..."

There was no need to explain further. Connor could guess what 'other things' meant.

"I finally got busted. Did three years in the can; six months in rehab. That was almost a year ago. Been clean ever since." She took the shot. "If not necessarily sober. So, when I got out of rehab Da took me back in." Her voice dropped. "But the cancer had already taken hold. His dying wish was for me to stay and take care of this place." She laughed at the irony. "I guess he figured it would keep me outta trouble."

Connor absorbed the information for a moment. He had to give her credit. Most would be embarrassed with such a fucked up past. But she seemed to have made peace with it. She didn't let it own her. He respected her for that. "And what about this Mikey fucker?"

"He was my dealer. He works for a guy named Doyle. They were small time upstate before you took the Yakavetta syndicate down. I guess now they're trying to move into the territory."

Connor grabbed the bottle and took his turn pouring. "Do you miss your da?" He wasn't really sure what made him ask, but it seemed like something to talk about.

"Yeah, I do," she said with sadness in her voice that almost made him sorry for asking. "Don't you miss yours?"

He shrugged. "I never really got to say goodbye, ya know. Everything happened so quickly. One minute he was there, then he was gone, then Murph and I got arrested."

"That's so sad."

The change in her tone made him pause. Her cheeks were flush and her eyes a bit glazed. He smiled. The whiskey was doing its job. And if he was to be honest with himself, it was beginning to have an affect on him as well. "Now, I just need to focus on getting Murphy outta there. When I left he was in solitary. If they put him into gen pop, there's no one there to watch his back."

Another sudden change in her demeanor took him off guard. "Well," she said, seemingly more upbeat, "there's nothing you can do about that at this hour." She slid off the bar stool and grabbed the bar to steady herself. "But there is something that I might be able to help you with." She pulled her coat from the back, tossing him his, and shrugged into it. "Let's go."

"It's two-thirty in the morning. Where are we going?"

She gave him a sloppy grin. "It's a surprise." She snatched up her keys and headed toward the door.

"Fuck that!" he said, reaching for her keys. "I'm not getting a car with you. You'll kill us both."

She snorted then giggled with embarrassment. "You are correct, good sir. That is why we shall be walking. It's not that far."

3.

More snow had fallen since earlier in the day and it glistened under the streetlights as they walked in silence down the sidewalk. Not much had changed in the neighborhood since Connor had last been there. It seemed like a lifetime ago that he and his brother had walked down the same street on Saint Patrick's Day. They had left McGinty's in shambles after a particularly nasty bar fight. That's when it had begun. That walk home had changed their lives forever.

He was so lost in the memories that he almost knocked Maggie over when she stopped short. He cocked his head as he looked at the tall steeple before him.

"Saint Katherine's Cathedral? It's a little late for confession..."

Maggie snickered. "I haven't been in a church in five years. We're going there."

Next to the church was a modest house with a well-tended garden and a statue of a Saint Frances of Assisi by the front door. The light on the outside was on, and Connor wondered why it would be lit at such an ungodly hour.

"The Sisters look after the church," Maggie said. "This is their convent. Come on."

She started up the stairs. Connor ran behind her and took her elbow. "Hold on, now," he said, "I don't think they're going to be too fucking happy to answer the door at two-thirty in the morning."

Maggie blinked at him. "First of all; let go of me." She wrenched her arm away from him, strolled up to the door and knocked softly. "And second, relax, I've got this."

The door opened to an older woman dressed in her nightclothes. Her cropped black hair was graying at the temples. When she smiled at Maggie, her green eyes sparkled under stoop light. "Maggie, dear," she took Maggie into her arms. "It has been a while."

"Yes, Sister," Maggie answered. Then she stepped back and motioned to Connor who was still standing on the sidewalk. "This is Connor..."

"McManus," the nun finished. "I've read all about you in the paper."

Connor rubbed the back of his neck, and walked up the steps to greet her. It still embarrassed him when he was recognized.

"Connor," Maggie continued, "this is Sister Mary Lucille."

He took Lucille's outstretched hand and gave her a nod. "Sister," he said, "apologies for the late call."

She smiled broadly. "Not at all. I've been expecting you." Both Maggie and Connor raised their eyebrows. Lucille laughed. "Connor, you and your brother are not the only ones who receive messages from God. I knew that I would be receiving some special guests this evening. Come in."

Maggie walked in, but Connor stayed on the stoop. He was not so sure that he was comfortable with the situation.

Lucille planted her hands on her hips. "Connor McManus, get your ass in here this second."

He shoved his hands into his pocket and walked through the door.

"Sister," Maggie said, "I was wondering if we might make a quick visit..." Her voice trailed off, but Sister Lucille seemed to understand. Then she gave Maggie a look that made Connor take pause. A look like they shared some sort of secret that he had yet to be let in on.

"Yes, of course, child."

They waited in the hallway as Lucille closed and bolted the door. Connor noticed a long barreled shotgun resting in the corner. "Expecting trouble, Sister?" he asked with a smirk.

"That? Oh, that's just for show." She began leading through the darkened hallway. "This is not the safest neighborhood. It stays empty, but it is enough to scare off any potential threats."

"I see," Conner said. He fell behind as they walked on and listened idly as Lucille gave Maggie the latest goings on around the convent. When they reached a door at the end of the hall they stopped.

Lucille unlocked the door and pushed it open. It led outside into an enclosed garden. What would have been blooming with lush greenery and flowers was now barren under the snow. Lamps lit a stone pathway leading away from the house and around the garden; joining again at the entrance. From where he stood, Connor could make out small, unassuming, stone crosses lined neatly in rows.

"You can see yourself the rest of the way?" Maggie nodded as Sister Lucille handed her a key, "I must get back to bed. These old bones don't take kindly to late night romps like they used to."

"Thank you, Sister," Maggie said, "We can see ourselves out."

Lucille looked at her for a moment then reached up to tuck a stray piece of Maggie's hair behind her ear, "Don't stay away so long next time, dear."

Connor saw shame paint Maggie's face.

"I just haven't..."

"I know," Lucille said. "You and the Lord haven't been getting on lately."

Maggie nodded. "We'll work it out."

"I'm sure you will."

"Good night, Sister." With that, Maggie stepped out into the darkness.

Before Connor could follow, Lucille touched his arm. "And you, young man, I know that you and God have your own special relationship."

He couldn't help but smile. "You could say that."

"We are all called to do the Lord's work in different ways. Perhaps you can help Maggie with her own demons."

The statement took Connor off guard. He looked out the doorway to see Maggie stopped in front of a headstone. "I don't think I'm the right person to..." he started and turned back to Lucille. She was nowhere to be seen.

Taking a deep breath and pushing away the nagging feeling that he was getting in way over his head, he pulled his coat tighter around himself and walked into the cold night air. A rod iron fence ran the perimeter of the garden, and Connor guessed that it was a private cemetery reserved for the sisters of the convent and their families. When he reached Maggie, she was still in the same place. He glanced down at the headstone. _Sister Mary Claire._

"She was my sister," Maggie said without prompting, and he wondered if she was even talking to him. "She was the good one. She was stabbed while volunteering at a homeless shelter. Two guys got into a fight over a pair of shoes. She got caught in the middle."

"I'm sorry," he said, but it sounded hollow. He didn't know what to say at that moment.

Wiping a stray tear from her cheek, she shrugged. "This is not why I brought you here."

She stepped over to the next stone. It was different than the rest. Not a cross, but a flat, standard headstone. Leaning closer, Connor could see a name etched into the front.

"Doc," he read.

Maggie knelt before the stone and motioned for him to do the same. Taking his hand, she guided it over the smooth, cold granite to the side. He felt the engraving, but couldn't quite make out what it was.

"Have another look," she said.

Peering around the side of the marker, Connor felt his heart stop in his chest. The engraving was a simple one, but very recognizable. It was a Celtic cross. Underneath were the words, _In Nomeni Patri, et Fili, Spiritus Sanctus._ "Da." he barely recognized his own voice even as he said the word.

Maggie stood. "Doc wanted a proper burial for him. No one but us and sisters know that he's buried here."

He was grateful when he heard her footsteps crunching in the snow; leaving him alone. Hot tears left a blazing trail down his cold cheeks. While he had been in prison, he had often wondered what he would say to his father if he ever got the chance to say goodbye. Now he had his answer. There was nothing to say. Not yet, anyway, perhaps someday.

He wiped what was left of the tears from his cheeks, crossed himself, and got to his feet. _There's still work to be done,_ he thought. It was true. There would always be more scumbags waiting in the wings to be smote. But where would it end? Would it end? Probably not. But one thing he was sure of was that he could not do it on his own. He had to get Murphy out the Hoag.

Half way around the circle path, he found Maggie sitting on a bench close to the iron gates that led to the outside world. She was inspecting a fountain next to her. The granite lion's head was most likely a sight to behold in the summer when the flowers were in bloom and the water flowed from its open mouth. It was not running now. It had been shut off and emptied for the winter.

Maggie glanced up at him as he approached, and Connor wondered if she would ask about his father. Instead, she held up a bronze key and pointed to the gate. "We can go out this way."

He followed as she pushed the creaky gate open then slammed them shut again. She locked the gate behind them then tossed the key over the tall wall back into the cemetery. He heard it hit rock and then fall into the fountain. "Sister Lucille will find it in the morning. Let's go."


	2. Chapter 2

1.

Mikey O'Rourke cursed loudly when his phone interrupted him. He rolled off of the girl who was his consolation prize for the evening. He couldn't remember her name, but she was fucking loose, and was pretty much down for whatever he wanted to do. She didn't make a sound when he left her, and he assumed it was because she was too strung out to realize what was going on. Fucking junkies. He grabbed his cell off the bedside table. Doyle. Shit.

"Hello,"

"Did you find out anything about McManus?"

"Yeah," Mikey said, scowling as he watched his boner shrink down to its normal size. "As a matter of fact, he's shackin' up with Maggie McGinty at her old man's bar downtown."

"Is he now?"

"Yeah, the stupid bitch has gone to the other side." He leaned over and poked at the girl who had rolled over and passed out. "What do you want me to do? The only reason she didn't turn states evidence when she went in the joint is because we threatened to take out her old man. He's dead. What's to stop her from doin' it now?"

"Nothing," Doyle said. "Take care of her. And find that fucking evidence."

"I'll toss the bar," said Mikey. "If it's not there, there's a nunnery where her sister used to live. She's pretty close with the sisters. She might have given it to them."

"Take care of it, Mikey, or it'll be your ass!"

The phone went dead. _Shit!_ Mikey thought. _The sick fuck wants me to rough some nuns! Bastard._ He glanced at the girl. She was dead to the world. What fun is that? He pulled back the blanket and admired her bare ass. He was pleased when he got a semi for his trouble. He pushed her over onto her stomach and lifted up her hips. _Fuck it, I'm gonna get mine._

Maggie stumbled down the stairs and into the bar. Pint glasses and a pair of shot glasses littered the bar from the night before. She blinked as the light from outside streamed through the windows, and was grateful that she had the good sense to go to bed when she had. Using the water gun, she filled the coffee carafe and started a pot. She turned the TV behind the bar on to the morning news. A string of loud curses and a thud from the far side of the bar caught her attention.

Connor crawled out from under a booth table, rubbing his head. He eyed the empty bottle of Jameson's in front of him, and what might pass for recollection crossed his face.

"Mornin," said Maggie from behind the bar. She didn't look any better than he felt, but at least she was standing upright. "Coffee's on."

He staggered to the bar and collapsed onto a barstool. "What the fuck happened last night?" he asked as he pulled a cigarette out of a pack left on the bar and lit it.

"You decided to do some more drinking when we got back." She set a mug in front of him and filled it with coffee. "You were still up when I went to bed. Guess you passed out in the booth."

He rubbed his eyes. "Fuck me."

"But we only just met," she said, smirking at him.

He appeared to be searching for a witty retort, but Maggie suspected that his brain wasn't working on all pistons. It was short lived, however, when a news story caught his attention at that moment. "Turn up the TV."

Maggie did. A pretty blond reporter was standing outside the Hoag prison.

"...The details of the attack are still unclear, but from what the information that we have received, Murphy McManus, one of the brothers known as The Saints of Boston, was attacked and killed last night while serving a life sentence for the public execution of Joe Yakavetta almost ten years ago."

Connor and Maggie stared at the screen as a picture of Murphy appeared. Maggie finally turned the TV off. She reached out to touch Connor's hand. She had no idea what to say. "I am so sorry, Connor."

He knocked her hand away, sending his coffee mug flying into the glasses from the previous evening. Glass shards flew across the bar. Coffee splashed down the front of Maggie's robe. A piece of a pint glass sliced the top of her hand. She wanted to be angry at him, but truth was that she couldn't blame him, so she let it go. "Is there anything I can do?" The question sounded so asinine. He had just learned that his brother had been murdered. What could she possibly do to help?

The next thing she knew he was on his feet and heading for the front door. "Connor, where are you going?" she called. He ignored her. "Connor, wait!"

It was too late. He was gone. Maggie, drenched in coffee, blood trickling from her hand, could do nothing but stare at door where he had disappeared. She contemplated going after him, but decided that this was something that he was going to have to come to terms with by himself. She had. She only hoped that he would not succumb to the same darkness that she had fallen prey to once upon a time.

2.

Connor found himself kneeling in the back pew of Saint Katherine's. He wasn't really sure how he had ended up there after he had stumbled out of McGinty's. His world was spiraling out of control and focusing on anything at that moment made his head hurt. Yet here he was. In church. And for the life of him, he couldn't reason why he would go to seek God's guidance. It was God who had led him and Murphy down this ridiculous path in the first place. Or was it? He wasn't sure anymore. Had they really been on the righteous path? Or were they suffering some grandiose delusion? He wasn't sure anymore.

Squeezing his eyes shut, he ground his teeth so hard that it hurt. He wanted to scream. He wanted to curse God until he was struck down by lightning. But he held it in. Only part of it was because of the small group of nuns in the front of the church praying the mysteries of the rosary. The other part was because screaming at God would offer some release for his pain. That was not what he wanted. He wanted to feel the pain. Hold it close to him. _This is penance,_ he thought. _This is my punishment for believing that I was doing God's work._

"Jesus Christ would you stop with the self-inflicting angst? It's fucking annoying."

Connor opened his eyes when the familiar voice spoke. Rocco was dressed in a full nun's habit, sitting on the pew in front of him with feet resting in the seat. Under any other circumstance, Connor would have found the scene hilarious, but he couldn't seem to allow himself even this moment of levity. A familiar looking cat jumped onto the back of the pew, stretched his back, and lifted his tail at Rocco.

His face screwed up and shooed the cat away. "Get the fuck outta here!" The cat hissed at him, jumped down, and disappeared. "I always thought that I would have a lot of pussy chasing me around in Heaven, that is not was I was expecting. The god-damned thing won't leave me alone."

"What's with the get up?" Connor asked. He glanced around to find that none of the Sisters praying in the front seemed to be aware of Rocco's presence.

"Man, you wouldn't believe how fucking comfortable these things are," Rocco said. "I understand why the nuns live in these things. I don't even have to wear anything under it." To prove his point, he stood up and lifted the robe. "It's fucking liberating!"

Connor stared at him, still not able to find any humor.

Rocco dropped the fabric and sat back down. "Nothing, huh? Jesus, they've really done a number on you this time, haven't they?"

"What the fuck do you want, Rocco?" Connor snapped.

"Take it easy, asshole," Rocco said. "I'm here because you're heading down a very dangerous road and I need to make sure you get your head out of your ass."

"Ah, fuck you," Connor said. "Everyone is gone. Are you going to tell me that there's still a fucking plan? Well, fuck that! It's done! I'm done! Game over!"

Rocco sneered. "Will you stop acting like such a pussy? Sure there's been some casualties in this war. Me, Greenly, your Dad, we all did what we did because we knew that what we were doing was right. We all made that sacrifice for a greater good. And now you're going to just give up and make all that for nothing? Fuck _you,_ you arrogant prick."

Connor hung his head in shame. "How the hell am I suppose to do this on my own?"

"You're not on your own. Why don't you open your fucking eyes?"

Connor looked back up at him. "Maggie?" He wasn't sure why she popped into his head at that moment, but for some reason, it seemed reasonable.

Rocco nodded.

Connor shook his head. "Fuck no! Not her. I will not watch another person die for this! I'm not bringing her in."

"She's been in from the beginning, fucker," Rocco said.

Now Connor was thoroughly confused. "Stop being so fucking cryptic man and tell me what the fuck are you talking about!"

"Open your fucking eyes!" Without warning, Rocco leaned forward and punched Connor in the jaw.

Connor's head snapped up when the loud crash echoed through the church when the front doors banged opened.

Six men walked in, each carrying a pistol drawn. Three of the men walked with purpose toward the startled nuns who were already on their feet. Two of the them closed the doors and took up post on either side. The last one trained his barrel on Conner

"What the fuck is this?

Shoving his gun at Connor again, the man motioned for him to move down the aisle. "Shut the fuck up! You move and we'll kill all of your little sister friends!"

Gritting his teeth and seeing no other alternative at the moment, Connor stood, raised his hands, and complied. Sister Lucille left her pew and started up the aisle to intercept the men. They stopped as she approached. The man on Connor pushed him forward so that he was standing next to Lucille.

She looked from Connor to the men with the guns. "This is a house of God," she said, "your weapons have no place here."

The man in the front sneered. "You help us out, Sister, and we will be more than happy to leave and take our weapons with us."

"How can I help you? What do you want?"

"Maggie McGinty."

Connor stiffened, but Lucille caught his eye briefly, telling him to stay put.

"I'm afraid you've come to the wrong place," she said. "Maggie doesn't come into this church."

The man snickered. "I'm not looking for her. I'm looking for something that she gave you."

Lucille raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Some information she would have given you for safe keeping."

"I have no knowledge any such information," she said.

He shook his head. "You really are going to make this difficult, aren't you, Sister?" His hand shot out and struck her across the cheek.

Connor took a step forward. The man shoved his gun in his face. "Don't even think about it, asshole."

In the next moment, all hell broke loose. Outside, two gunshots rang out. The front doors opened again. This time, a long, stainless steel table on wheels, with a mother of pearl coffin on top, rolled swiftly into the church and half way down the aisle. All eyes were on the spectacle. Two shots were fired and both the men stationed at the door were down. The nuns screamed and made for the pulpit. The top of the coffin flew open, and Murphy McManus sprang up from the inside like a jack-in-the-box, wielding a gun in each hand. With brilliant execution, he shot two of the men in front of Connor. Connor shoved Lucille to the ground and barreled into the last man standing, grabbing his gun as they both toppled to the floor. Connor quickly righted himself and put a single bullet into the man's chest.

The echoes of gunfire faded into deafening silence as Connor tried to assimilate the events. He stared up the middle aisle of the church where Murphy was dragging himself out of the open coffin. He hopped to the floor, spread his arms in triumph, and smiled at Connor. "Miss me, brother?"

Connor marched to where his brother was standing and promptly landed a right hook across his jaw.

"Jesus Christ," Murphy howled. "What the fuck was that for?"

"The news said you were dead, asshole!" Then letting out a loud howl, he pulled his brother into a bear hug.

"Well," a slow southern drawl came from the doorway, "I always heard that church was illuminating, but I had no idea it could be that good."

Both brothers turned to the door to see Eunice Bloom stepping delicately over one of the bodies, securing her gun the holster on the front of her belt, Paul Smecker followed her closely.

"Yeah, well," said Smecker, "Let's not make a habit of it."

Bloom grinned at him. "I see what you did there." She stopped and looked at her black stilletos. "I do hate getting blood on my favorite pair of Valantinos."

Smecker leaned over to look. "That is a shame. They give your calves the perfect curve."

She raised her eyebrows. "Oooh, if you weren't gay, Paul, we could have such a sweet time together."

Smecker wrinkled his nose. "Sweetheart, God didn't make them much hotter than you, but if you keep up that talk, I'm going to throw up in my mouth a little bit."

Connor was sure he must be hallucinating. "What the fuck is this?"

Murphy and Smecker exchanged glances, but neither offered an explanation. Bloom shook her head and sighed loudly. "Allow me to explain," she said. "I do apologize that you were not informed of our little ruse, but you see, time was of the essence, and we simply did not have time to contact you before hand."

"What in God's name are you talking about?"

Smecker took over. "When we arranged the riot that led to your release, Murphy was supposed to get out with you. He, as you know, got himself thrown in the hole that morning." He paused to pass on a nasty look to Murphy who replied with a middle finger in the air. "We knew that it was only a matter of time before he got released back into Gen Pop, so we arranged a little incident to get him out."

Connor looked from Smecker to Murphy. "They said on the news that you were stabbed."

Murphy grinned at him and lifted his shirt. A bandage that was now red from where the blood soaked through covered half of his side. "That part was true."

Smecker continued, "Then it was just a matter of injecting a little Succinylcholine while he was in the infirmary to give a very convincing illusion of death. Those clowns who dare to call themselves doctors never knew what the fuck hit 'em."

"Then," Bloom picked up the story again, "we contacted a special priest to make a request for the body. And that's all she wrote."

"Excuse me,"

They all turned to see Sister Lucille making her way to them.

"I don't mean to interrupt this beautiful family reunion, but I am pretty sure that the police will be on their way soon. I think it would be better if you were gone when that happens." She paused and gave them a small smile. "Especially since three of the four of you are suppose to be dead."

Smecker grabbed her and kissed her cheek. "You are wise beyond your years, Sister."

Connor gave her an incredulous look. "You mean you were in on this the whole time?"

"Well, not all of it, but enough. This, though," she indicated the dead bodies still laying around the room and sighed. "This was most unexpected."

"And you can handle the cops?" Smecker asked.

"Of course, I can. We heard a ruckus in the church. When we arrived, we found this."

Bloom raised an eyebrow. "A nun who covers up a mass shooting in the church. Now I've seen it all."

Sister Lucille smiled at her. "That is what confession is for, my dear. It is a shame, but they were not men of God, and while I abhore violence, I am glad that none of my dear sisters were hurt."

A thought occurred to Connor. He turned to Murphy. "How did you know I was here?"

"We went to McGinty's, assuming you'd be there. Maggie told us what happened and suggested that we come here."

"Shit," Connor said, "we've got to get to her. O'Rourke is still looking for that evidence. It's a good bet that he'll go after her."

Murphy was already headed toward the door. "Well, let's get the fuck out of here then."

As they headed out into the daylight, Connor saw the two thugs who had been left outside to guard the church. They were both laying in pools of their own blood. Connor guessed the culprits had been Smecker and Bloom. He followed the others to the curb where a black hearse waited. Bloom climbed into the driver's seat with Smecker next to her. Murphy pulled the back open and crawled into the long, empty space.

"What the fuck is this, then?"

Smecker watched him from the front seat. "Urban camouflage. How else were we suppose to get your brother out of prison?"

Murphy grinned. "It's the closest we'll ever get to riding in a limo, so enjoy it."

"Let's just get back to McGinty's," Connor said.

Murphy raised an eyebrow. "Why in such a hurry, Connor? You really that worried about the girl? Maybe you've got a thing for her?"

"Would ya shut the fuck up?"

Murphy snickered. "Ooo...a wee bit touchy, eh? She is hot, and it has been a long time. Maybe you need a little..."

Connor reached across the car and shoved him. "I said shut the fuck up."

"Don't fucking push me!" Murphy pushed back. Connor lunged again and the two of them became entangled; rolling back in and forth in the back of hearse, hitting and cursing each other.

"Hey!" Bloom yelled from the driver's seat. "If you two don't cut that shit out I'm gonna stop this car and make you walk the rest of the way."

Smecker adjusted his mirror so he could see the scuffle. "I don't think it worked, mom," he snickered.

She was going to make a snide remark, but forgot about it as the hearse pulled up to the curb in front of McGinty's. "Oh fuck."

The words caught the brother's attention and from where they both laid sprawled in the back, they looked up to see out the window. Black smoke engulfed the bar, making it nearly impossible to see anything behind the glass windows. But it wasn't enough to hide the flames that were coming up from the top of the bar.

"Shit!" Connor cried as he jumped out of the back of the hearse; Murphy on his heels. He leaped over the steps leading to the door and grabbed a hold of the handle. He jerked his hand back.

"Get back." Murphy shouted. Connor stepped back as his brother brandished a pistol and fired. The glass shattered. Both of them pulled the front of their shirts up over their noses and stepped inside. The fire was contained at the bar area, so they could easily maneuver through the tables. Smecker and Bloom followed.

"We'll see about the fire," Smecker said. "Go see if she's upstairs."

Connor nodded and took the back stairs two at a time with Murphy right behind. The smoke burned his eyes causing them to water. When he reached the closed door at the top of the stairs, he wasted no time kicking it in.

Maggie was at the back of the room, sitting in a straight-backed chair. Her head was hanging down; her hair covering her face.

"Maggie!" he cried from the door, coughing uncontrollably. "Maggie, we've got to get out of here."

When he received no response, he knelt in front of her. "Maggie." He pushed her sticky hair up and out of her sweat drenched face. Her watery, red, eyes were looking at him, but she didn't seem to be registering his presence. "Maggie, what the fuck is wrong with you?"

"This could have something to do with it," Murphy said from the other side of the room. He was holding up a used hypodermic needle.

Connor pushed up Maggie sleeve and felt the bile rise up into his throat as he stared at the bloody puncture marks in her arms. "Shit. Murphy gimme a hand!"

Without question, Murphy was by his side. "Looks like your girl fell off the wagon," he said, noticing the scars on her arm.

"She didn't fucking do this to herself," Connor said, pulling one arm around his shoulder. "Now help me!"

Murphy took her other arm, and the two of them lifted her up. Her head lolled back and forth. "Come on, Maggie," Murphy said, "we're gonna get ya outta here."

By the time they made it out the back, Smecker had already pulled the hearse into the alley. He helped Connor and Murphy load Maggie into the back. "We were able to put the fire out, fortunately I don't think it did too much damage."

Murphy sighed loudly as he watched his brother climb into the hearse to sit next to Maggie. "I don't think we can say the same for her."

Maggie lay between Connor and Murphy. She wasn't asleep or awake. Her head lolled back and forth and she began to speak in whispers.

"What's she saying?" Murphy asked.

Connor shook his head, "I don't know."

Somewhere in the background, sirens could be heard getting closer. "We need to go," Bloom said as she opened the driver's door.

"Where?" Smecker asked, getting into the seat next to her.

"Back to Saint Katherine's," Connor called from the back.

"Are you fucking mad?" Murphy said. "That place will be crawling with cops."

Connor shook his head. "We're not going to the church." He turned to Bloom. "Go to South Ash Street. Park in front of the cemetery gates."

"You got it." Bloom said. Connor turned back to this brother. "I know a way in."


	3. Chapter 3

1.

The convent was quiet, as Connor had expected. Bloom had pulled around the far side of the cemetery as he had directed. After scaling the wall and letting them with key he dug out of the lion fountain, the young sister, who later introduced herself as Agnes, ushered them in through the back door and upstairs without question. She had been in the church earlier and seemed to be quite thankful that the McManus brothers had been there. Now Connor, Murphy, Smecker, and Bloom waiting in the living room on the second floor of the convent. It was reserved for visitors of the convent with a sitting area and three rooms branching off of it. Sister Lucille, after dealing with the police next door, had hurried to Maggie's bedside. Along with Sister Josephine, who had been a nurse before taking her vows, Lucille had been inside one of the rooms for almost an hour.

Murphy grunted and leaned back in his armchair, stretching his arms over his head. "What the fuck is taking so long?" Bloom reached out and smacked his leg from where she was resting on the settee. He looked up and saw two sisters moving past them and down the hallway. He blushed and muttered an apology.

Before Bloom could chastise him, the door opened. Lucille closed the door behind her and Josephine. Connor jumped up as the nuns moved to address the group.

"She has definitely been drugged," Josephine said. "I'm not an expert on these things, but I have seen her symptoms before. I would say it could be some sort of heroine. Though I don't believe she was injected with enough to trigger an overdose. Just enough to knock her down for awhile."

Bloom stood and straightened her skirt. "So they weren't trying to kill her."

"Not with the drugs anyway," Smecker said, from where he was sitting by the window. He rubbed his chin. "They were trying to make it look like an accident. Leave her strung out while the bar burned to the ground."

Connor ground his teeth. "Is she going to be okay?"

Josephine nodded. "I believe so. Although what is happening now is only the beginning of her troubles."

"What do you mean?" Murphy asked.

"Well, because she is a former addict, the detox period is liable to be very tough for her," said Josephine. "It could be a day or two before she's back on her feet. She's resting now. I'll keep an eye on her."

Lucille touched Josephine's shoulder. "Thank you, Sister. The others are preparing dinner downstairs. You may go join them now."

"Yes, Sister."

Josephine nodded and took her leave.

The mood was somber. Connor began pacing the floor clenching and unclenching his fist. "O'Rourke did this," he growled. He stopped in front of Smecker. "He's got be dealt with."

Smecker nodded. "Yes, that is apparent."

"So," Connor said, "let's go get him."

"Not yet."

"Not yet?" Connor said, getting down in Smecker's face. "What are we fuck are we waiting for? It won't be long before he realizes that she didn't die in that fire. He will come after her again."

Now Smecker jumped up causing Connor to take a step back. "I said 'not yet'. There is a bigger picture to be dealt with first."

Connor sneered. "Bigger picture, my ass!"

Now he and Smecker stood toe to toe. Bloom was moved to intercept Smecker while Murphy pulled Connor back. "Take it easy, Connor," Murphy said.

"Fuck off, Murphy!" Connor pushed him away. "Don't you see what's going on here? Everyone who gets involved with us gets fucked!"

"Alright!" Sister Lucille raised her voice. "Everyone put their dicks away!" The room stilled, and everyone gave the nun their full attention. "That's better. Now look, it has been a very long day," she put a hand on Connor's shoulder, "a very stressful day. Now, I suggest that everyone take a break, let's get some supper and some rest, and then figure out what to do next."

Bloom nodded. "I think that is a good idea." She turned to Connor. "It will give us a chance to make a plan."

Connor knew they were all right. The day was already beginning to wear on him. "Alright,"

"Good," Sister Lucille said. "Now let's go downstairs. Supper should be ready," She looked at both men, neither were backing down, "Now!" she barked.

Smecker and Bloom, followed by Lucille, began to make their way down the hallway towards the stairs.

"I'm not hungry," Connor said, sinking back into his chair.

Lucille looked at Murphy. "I'll stay with him," he said, taking the chair closest to the window.

She nodded. "I'll bring some food up in a bit."

"Thank you, Sister."

2.

Connor didn't know how long he had been asleep. Glancing out the window, he could see that the sun was beginning to set. His brother was still in his chair reading a book that he had snatched off of a nearby bookcase. Connor wondered idly what kind of books the Sisters of Saint Katherine's read to pass the time. Two bowls sat on the coffee table in front of him. One was near empty, the other sat untouched. Murphy looked up from his book, but said nothing. There was no need. Since they were children they had been able to sit together in a room and not say anything at all. Connor decided that the comfortable silence was what he needed. It felt normal.

The silence was all too brief, however, when the sound of breaking glass snapped them both to attention. By the time Connor registered that it was coming from Maggie's room, Murphy was already on the move. He burst into the room and stopped short just inside the doorway. When Connor was in, he stopped too.

Maggie was standing by the shattered mirror above the bureau. In her hand was a large shard of glass. Blood dripped from her palm, down the white nightgown that she was wearing.

"Maggie," Connor shouted, "What the fuck are you doing?"

She stared at him, but her eyes were glazed, unrecognizing. "Destroy all of that which is evil, so that which is good may flourish. For whoever shall shed man's blood, by man shall his blood be shed."

 _Oh Shit,_ Conner thought asshe raised the shard high. Connor never saw Murphy move, but he was there, taking her from behind, holding her arms to her side. She howled and struggled. The white bandages around her forearms bled red as the wounds opened. "Let me go!"

Connor walked slowly to her. "Take it easy, Maggie." He took the glass from her hand. She pulled against Murphy again. "We're here to help you."

"Help me!" she said, seemingly more lucid than she had been a moment earlier. "You can't help me! You made me! Both of you! Let go!"

Connor nodded, and Murphy released her. Her arms fell to her sides, and she appeared to lose whatever fight she had left in her. Her eyes were still unseeing again as she moved in a trance past Connor to the bed. She climbed up on the bed and knelt in front of the crucifix on the wall above the headboard. Murphy glanced at Connor who only shrugged and shook his head. Maggie raised her arms up and then spoke, but not to either of them.

"And so Michael and Uriel with their mighty swords shall come forth to lead my army against the those who would harm the innocent and protect the vessel that will carry on their charge."

Her body went ridged then she went limp and she fell onto the bed. She lay there in a sobbing heap. Before either of the brothers could react, Sister Lucille appeared in the doorway. "What in the Lord's name is going on here?" She hurried to the bed and gathered Maggie into her arms. Rocking back and forth, she spoke in a soothing whisper.

Murphy caught Connor's attention and together they slipped out the door, closing it behind them. Bloom and Smecker were waiting for them on the other said.

"Jesus Christ," Murphy breathed. "What the fuck just happened?"

Bloom put a sympathetic hand on Connor's shoulder. "She is in a very dark place right now."

"Dark place?" Murphy said. "That was some straight up Agnes of God shit going on in there."

Smecker cleared his throat. "Yes, well, while she's been battling her inner demons, I have made a few phone calls and we have an appointment to keep."

Frowning at him, Bloom hit him in the arm. "You have the tact of god damn rattlesnake, Paul."

"Ah come on, Eunice, I don't have time for this teenage angst bullshit. Now if we get everyone back to the grown-ups table, we've got some work to do."

3.

Leaving Bloom at the convent to help the sisters with Maggie, Connor, Murphy, and Smecker had taken the hearse and had gone to meet with Seamus, the Gun Man. Seamus had moved a good fifty miles outside of Boston, so it was nearly midnight when they finally reached him. He had been quite surprised and pleased to see that the McManus brothers were back in business. Even more so when Smecker dropped a duffle bag full of cash in front of him, "You know the drill," Seamus had said. The empty bag that the boys had brought was soon full of their weapons of choice.

Connor found himself more at ease by the minute, the giddiness that he felt as they loaded up for an execution was a familiar feeling, one that he hadn't even realized he had missed.

"Always a pleasure, boys," Seamus said as they were headed out the door.

4.

The sun was on the horizon by the time they made it back at St. Katherine's. Both Connor and Murphy immediately crashed out on the couches in the sitting area upstairs, while Smecker took one of the vacant rooms. Given that they had been without a decent rest in two days, good sleep was hard to get. By mid morning, they had given up and were now playing the waiting game while Bloom finished preparations for their outing.

Connor fidgeted in his seat by the window while Murphy paced back and forth between the settee and the coffee table.

"Sit down," Smecker said from his place on the sofa. His face was covered from view by the newspaper he was reading.

Murphy scowled at him. "I'm fucking ready to get this over with."

"Yeah?" asked Smecker as he folded his paper and slapped it down on the table, "Because you are driving me fucking insane."

The conversation halted with the door to Maggie's room opened and Bloom appeared. "I hope we didn't keep ya'll waitin'," she said, turning her sweet, southern drawl up a notch.

"Cut the crap, Scarlet," Smecker said, "is everything ready?"

Bloom nodded and stepped aside to allow Maggie room to step through the doorway. The white nightgown was replaced by a black t-shirt and black pants with black boots that laced up to just under her knees. Her red hair was pulled back into a tight ponytail. A black blazer was draped over her arm. Both Connor's and Murphy's eyes went to the white contrast of the bandages. Now she not only had her right forearm bandaged from wrist to elbow, but her left hand sported a new wrap as well. She looked like she was keeping it together, but the dark circles under her eyes and her flushed skin said that she wasn't entirely recovered from her ordeal.

Murphy stopped pacing. "What the hell is this then?"

Maggie looked from Connor to Murphy, but it was Smecker who spoke. "The bigger picture, Murphy," he said. "O'Rourke is going down. But first, we need him to get to take us to Doyle. Maggie, here, has graciously agreed to help."

"What's to help with?" Murphy said.

Connor, true to the brother's style was right behind him. "Yeah, it's just a matter and going in and blowing O'Rourke's head off. Then we find Doyle."

"I won't be that easy," Maggie said. "You'll never find Doyle on your own."

Smecker nodded. "She's right. Doyle is not like those Yakavetta slobs who sat up there in their ivory towers just waiting to get picked off. The man never shows his face in public."

"Not even the FBI knows what he looks like," Bloom added. "That's how well he has maintained his anonymity."

Maggie agreed. "Mikey knows where he is. And I can get him to talk."

Connor grunted. "Mikey just pumped you full of heroine and left you to die in a burning building. What the fuck makes you think he'll tell you where Doyle is?"

"Because I have something that he wants."

The sound of footsteps on the stairs quieted them. It was Sister Lucille. She moved with purpose, carrying a thick manila envelope. Her stride was calm, but the expression on her face told them that she was nervous. She handed the package to Maggie, who took it with a trembling hand. "Are you sure about this, Maggie?"

Maggie offered her a sympathetic smile. "While I was detoxing, I had a vision," she paused and glanced at Connor and Murphy, "And trust me this wasn't your average fucking hallucination. The vision told me that I am suppose to do this." She stopped again and waited for someone to tell her she was bat-shit crazy. No one did. In fact, the only reaction came from the McManus brothers who only nodded with understanding. "This is the only way to keep us all safe, Sister. Thank you for keeping it for me."

"What is that?" Murphy asked.

"Evidence against Doyle. The time I spent with Mikey, while revolting to say the least, has kept me alive up until now." She handed it to Bloom and shrugged into her blazer. "I'll use it now to pressure Mikey into taking me to Doyle."

The group fell silent as they contemplated the plan. Smecker cleared his throat. "Alright, now that we're all caught up, shall we go put an end to some bad guys?"

"Fuck yeah!" Murphy said, "This is my favorite fucking part!"

Sister Lucille coughed lightly to remind him that she was still there. He dropped his head. "Sorry, Sister."

As her face broke into a smile, she placed a hand on Murphy's cheek. "You're a good man, Murphy, but do you have to curse so fucking much?"

Murphy gave her sly grin before giving her a quick kiss on the cheek and heading down the stairs. Smecker and Bloom followed. Connor lingered at the top of the stairs with Maggie.

"Are you sure you're up for this?" he asked.

She nodded, shoving her hands into the blazer to hide the shaking. "I have to be." Then she went to Sister Lucille and embraced her. "Thank you for everything, Sister."

"Be careful, Maggie, dear," Lucille said as Maggie joined Connor. "And may God be with you."

Connor paused at the top of the stairs and gave her a lop-sided smile. "He always is, Sister."

5.

Forty-five minutes later, the hearse pulled up the curb of Remington Road, two blocks over from the Gloucester Harbor. The main warehouse that Doyle used for his coffee import company (an obvious cover for his drug trade) was right on the water. Leaving the hearse behind, Connor, Murphy, Smecker, Bloom, and Maggie moved down the back allies until they could get a good view of the warehouse. There were no guards at the main entrance, but a security camera would let anyone inside know if they were receiving visitors.

"They'll be a couple of guards posted just inside the door." Maggie said. "That camera shows the entire street. They'll know if anyone else is coming. If Doyle is in there, he'll be on the third floor."

"What about the back?" Smecker asked.

"The dock is just off the back. There's a slip where the shipments come in underneath the warehouse."

Connor furrowed his brow. "I don't like you going in there by yourself," he said. "Especially without a weapon."

"They'll pat me down as soon as I walk in anyway," she said. "Don't worry, I can handle Mikey."

Smecker nodded. "You think you can keep him talking until we get there?"

"Yes."

He turned to Bloom who was tucking her hair up into a bobbed, blond, wig. "What do you think?" she asked, smoothing down the sides.

He pursed his lips. "Darling, you were never meant to be a blond." She stuck her tongue out at him and shrugged into her trench coat. "Let's do this."

Smecker and Murphy started down the street. Connor stayed back. He took Maggie by the elbow. "You be careful in there."

She raised an eyebrow, "I didn't know you cared."

"Just be careful," he said.

Then he was gone. The last glimpse she saw of him was just as he caught up with Smecker and Murphy, and they disappeared into an alleyway. Taking a deep breathe in a vain attempt to slow her hammering heart, Maggie nodded at Bloom who stayed back as she left Bloom behind as she crossed the street to the warehouse.

6.

Mikey O'Rourke cursed as he stepped out into the corridor, closing the door to Doyle's office behind him. Doyle had given him quite the tongue lashing when they had learned that not only had McGinty's not burned to the ground, but that Maggie was still alive. On top of all that, they had been unable to find the fucking evidence that the bitch had stashed. Doyle had let Mikey know that he should feel very fortunate that he hadn't gotten a bullet between the eyes. As he walked down the two flights of stairs to the front of the warehouse, he struggled to come up with a plan to fix his fuck up. He knew that under no uncertain terms that if he did not come through this time, Doyle would end him.

He was met at the front desk by one of his own men, Drake. "Mikey," he said, shouldering his assault rifle. "We have a guest."

Mikey followed him to the desk where a series of monitors showed various camera angles throughout the warehouse. Drake pointed to the monitor of the front entrance. Mikey almost laughed out loud when he saw Maggie standing in front of the door. Could this really be happening? Could he really be that lucky? Or could it all be a set up? Setting his jaw, he pushed a button to rotate the camera to get a better view of the street. There was no one else around. Still, he pulled his Taurus out of the back of his waist band and checked the clip – more than enough to waste the skank.

"Let her in," he told Drake, re-holstering his gun.

Drake nodded to Gilliam who was still by the door. He reached out and opened it. Maggie stood stock still on the stoop. This time, Mikey let a smile crease his lips. "Maggie, dear, please, come in."

Maggie stepped inside only to be stopped suddenly by Gilliam. "We have to check you, Maggie."

She nodded and held out her arms for him to check. Mikey interrupted. "I've got this one," he purred. He watched her swallow visibly, and he could see her trying to control the shakes. She was still detoxing. _Good,_ he thought, _she's still scared of me. I will have a little fun before the bitch gets it between the eyes._ Gilliam stepped back as Mikey moved into her space.

"We're not just checking for guns, sweetheart," he leaned close, "take it off."

She glanced at Gilliam and Drake standing on either side of her, and then the two others posted at the other end of the warehouse by a steel door. Finally, she leveled her gaze Mikey. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

"You know I have to see if your wired for sound," he purred. "Take it off."

Letting out slow breath, Maggie shrugged out of her blazer and handed it to Gilliam. Next came her shirt. She stopped as Mikey raked his gaze over her. "You still look good, Maggie, girl. But I think I really need to make sure."

He crouched down and felt around her boots. His hands moved up her legs to her thighs and rear end. They slid around to the front and lingered longer than necessary. Then they moved up her exposed rib cage to her covered breasts where he took the time to grab and yank on each one through her bra. Maggie stared at the ceiling for the duration.

"Satisfied?" she asked.

He let go and took a step back. "Oh, now you know that it takes more than that to get me going."

"Can I get dressed now?"

He looked her over one more time before nodding to Gilliam who handed over her t-shirt and blazer. "I have to hand it to you, Mags, you gotta a lot of balls coming here. What do you want?"

"I want to talk to Doyle. I have something he wants."

7.

The dock that ran along the backsides of the warehouses was empty, to the delight of the McManus brothers. They had gone down three buildings and come around the backside. If they were going to make an entrance without raising alarms, it was better if there were no people present.

"That's the one," Connor pointed to the warehouse that they knew to be Doyle's. The wooden dock stopped just in front of the building, creating an inlet leading underneath to the building.

"How are we going to get in?"

Connor glanced around and fixed his gaze on a floating tube attached to the side of the railing. A long blue rope was attached to it. "How's your swimming these days?"

Murphy looked from Connor to the flotation device and then to the cold, dark water below. He sighed. "Fuck."

Minutes later, Connor and Murphy were in the freezing water, moving along the side of the dock. Connor kept a tight grip on the rope that had the tube at the other end, floating underneath the dock planks with their bag of guns on top of it.

"Fuck, Connor," Murphy said through chattering teeth, "you've come up with some stupid plans, but this one..."

"Shut your fucking trap," Connor snapped, slowing as they neared the slip entrance. "I didn't hear you offering an alternative, ass-hat."

Murphy was going to argue, but Connor stopped him with a hand. They pulled themselves up so they could see over the dock and inside the slip. The slip was just big enough to fit a mid-sized boat. It opened up into what appeared to be a large storage room with boxes stacked amid various types of machinery. At the back of the windowless room was a steel door with two armed men sitting at a table to the right of it. They were drinking coffee and seemed unconcerned that they might have visitors.

Connor slipped back into the water. He tied the rope to a nearby pylon and slowly pulled the floating tube toward him. Reaching into the bag, he produced two Berettas, each fitted with a silencer. He handed one to Murphy. "Now," he whispered, "they're not too worried about visitors. We can swim into the slip. It goes nearly to the other side of the room. We can get close enough to take them out before they even know we're there."

"We need to fucking go now," said Murphy, "I've got fish trying to take my toes off." He kicked his leg causing a small splash.

Connor glared at him. "Would you fucking stop that!"

"Fuck you," Murphy responded, shoving Connor with elbow. Connor launched himself at him, grabbing him by the collar.

A struggle ensued that ended with them both knocking over the floating tube, sending the gun bag into the water. They both stopped and stared as it disappeared beneath the surface.

"Well, what have we got here?"

Connor and Murphy looked up to see two AR-15s aimed at their heads. Before they could even contemplate what to do next, silent thud could be heard as the hole appeared in the bigger man's forehead. The next one was just as quick. The McManus brothers watched as the two men dropped their guns and fell to the ground dead. They both jerked around to find the source of the saving bullets. Just outside the slip, a small fishing boat floated toward them with a very dry Smecker at the helm. He pulled up next to them and leaned over to get a look, shaking his head. "You couldn't find a drier way in?"


	4. Chapter 4

1.

"Evidence, I suppose." Pausing to look her over again, Mikey raised an eyebrow. "Unless your hiding it in that pretty little pussy of yours, it's not on your person. Where is it?"

This time she laughed at him. "You don't think I would be stupid enough to bring it with me, do you?"

Gritting his teeth to keep from smacking her, he reached up to tuck a stray piece of hair behind her ear. "I never did give you enough credit, did I?" he said. "Where is it?"

She took a step back, just out of his reach and pointed at the monitors. "Take a look."

On the front entrance monitor, standing on the other side of the street, he could see a petite woman with short blond hair, wrapped in a trench coat. He was pretty sure that she hadn't been there before. "Who the fuck is that?"

Maggie willed her pounding heart to slow down. She had to make this good. Selling her story was the only way to buy enough time for the boys. "Just a friend. She's got the evidence. After I speak with Doyle, I'll get it from her. If I don't come out in twenty minutes, or if any of your goons try to get to her, she's gone. Straight to the cops."

Mikey went to the desk and dug out a pack of smokes from the top drawer. "Why now, Mags?" He paused just long enough to light his cigarette. "Why all of the sudden are you wanting to cooperate with Doyle?"

Maggie waited before she answered. "Because I don't want to die," she said plainly. "You have already proven that you can get to me whenever you want." She held out her arms for proof. "I want to make a deal with Doyle. I give him his evidence; I get left alone." She watched him mull it over as he inspected the end of his cigarette. Would he believe her?

"And what about McManus? You two seemed pretty cozy at the bar."

"He's gone," she answered. "He's brought me nothing but trouble. Including bringing your sorry ass back into my life. I have no use for him, so I sent him packing."

In the next moment, he moved too fast for her to react. With quick strides he was back in front of her. With one swift stroke, he backhanded her across the cheek. Before she could recover, he grabbed the front of her shirt and shoved her up against the wall with his fist to her throat.

"You stupid druggie bitch, did you really think that I would buy that shit?" He turned only long enough to address Drake and Gilliam. "Go get the girl. If she gives you any trouble, shoot her. I want that evidence." Then he turned to the two men standing in the back. "Go check the slip. Tell Ryan and Black to look out for anyone coming in the back."

Gilliam and Drake nodded and opened the front door. They never made it out onto the sidewalk. Two well placed bullets knocked them backwards into the doorway. Maggie seized the momentary distraction to put a knee to Mikey's crotch. He doubled over, howling, and went for the gun in his waistband. Maggie didn't give him a chance to use it. Her boot shot out and caught him in the chin. He jerked backwards, landing on his back,

The two men at the back swung around just as the steel door blasted open. Connor was the first one through. He took aim with his Glock and pulled the trigger. Nothing happened.

"What the fuck?" asked Murphy.

Connor shook his gun. "Must've gotten wet! Get back!" He shoved Murphy back through the doorway as the two men fired. One of the bullets ricocheted off the door jam, slicing through Murphy's shoulder.

"Son of a bitch!" he howled.

"Take this one," Smecker said, handing Connor his back-up weapon.

Connor listened as they emptied their clips. Fucking idiots. When they stopped to reload, he and Smecker stepped back into the doorway and fired.

Blood was dripping from Mikey's face to the floor, as he lay there stunned. Maggie was not going to give him an opportunity to get back up. She kicked him again, this time in the ribs, he spat blood as he groaned. "How does that feel, Mikey? To be helpless while getting the shit kicked out of you!" She kicked again. "You worthless piece of shit."

By this time, two more men were coming down the stairs. They stopped at the bottom of the stairs, leveling their sites on Maggie. "Uh-huh, boys," They glanced at the front door just long enough to see Bloom take aim and fire.

Connor and Murphy found Maggie standing over Mikey's body. The blood had drained from her face and she looked like she would fall over at any moment. Connor shot a look at Smecker and Bloom. "Get Doyle!" He pointed up the stairs. "This asshole is ours."

He reached down and pulled Mikey up to a kneeling position. "You got a lot to answer for, fucker."

Murphy stepped up behind Mikey, but Connor stopped him. Instead, he turned to Maggie and held out his gun. "Would you like to do the honors?"

The McManus brothers stepped back as Maggie took the gun and walked up behind Mikey, shoving the barrel to the back of his head. "No," he cried, but fell into another coughing fit. Blood poured from his face and his lip was already swollen so that he couldn't even beg for his life.

"I've dreamt of this for too long, Mikey." She stared at the back of his head and prepared to pull the trigger. Something stopped her. She couldn't do it. _Why the fuck can't I pull the trigger? Why can't I end this? This is what I was told to do, damn it!_ Her hand started shaking uncontrollably. She was losing it. Then she felt a hand on hers. It was Connor. He gently pulled the gun from her hand.

"You don't have to do this."

She stared at him, and suddenly she felt numb. No feelings, no expectations. She nodded and let him have the gun. He moved her back and nodded to Murphy who took his place beside his brother.

 _"And shepherds we shall be, for thee, my Lord, for thee..."_

Then the world fell into a surreal slow motion. Maggie wanted to look away, but she couldn't.

 _"Power hath descended forth from Thy hand,_

 _That our feet may swiftly carry out Thy command,"_

The scene swirled around her as the words echoed through her brain. It was like she was listening in a vacuum.

 _"So we shall flow a river forth to Thee,_

 _And teeming with souls shall it ever be."_

Then there was calm.

 _"In Nomini Patris, et Filii, Spiritus Sanctus."_

The guns sounded off as one, and she watched with detached interest as Mikey's head jerked violently and his body fell to the ground. The world began to catch back up to real time, and as her eyes refocused, she found Connor and Murphy before her; watching her with concern.

"Are you alright?" asked Connor. He reached up and ran the pad of his thumb lightly across her cheek. It hurt, but she wouldn't admit it to him.

She nodded, but found that her head still felt heavy. "Yeah, I think so. I just couldn't..."

"Hey," Murphy said, "don't worry about it. It's okay."

Footsteps above them made the three turn. Connor and Murphy raised their guns. Smecker and Bloom stood on the second landing, holsering their weapons. "Doyle's gone," said Smecker.

"What the fuck?" said Murphy.

Bloom shook her head. "He must've heard the commotion and high-tailed it," she said.

"Motherfucker!" Murphy shouted, emphasizing his anger by kicking a stack of boxes next to the wall, then having to jump out of the way as they fell, nearly crushing him.

"Speaking of high-tailing it," Smecker said as she escorted Bloom down the stairs, "we better get out of here and regroup back at the convent. Then we can decide what to do next."

2.

The ride back to the convent was silent. The bloodied and tired group had no energy for conversation. They found soon found themselves back in the sitting area again, though none of them actually sat anywhere. Maggie disappeared into her room, while the others stood around looking lost. Sister Lucille brought tea and coffee, setting the tray on the coffee table.

"You all look like you've had a rough day," she said, trying to lighten the mood. No one responded. "I will have some food sent up, and I will call Sister Josephine to tend your wounds."

"What this?" Murphy asked indicating his bloody shoulder, "It doesn't hurt."

Lucille eyed him suspiciously, "Are you lying to me?" Murphy seemed to crumble under her gaze, "Yes Sister."

Lucille nodded with a smile, "I've still got it."

Smecker was barely able to force a smile. "Thank you, Sister."

Maggie appeared again. She had a bundle of blankets in her arms. Lucille stopped her. "What is this?"

"Oh," Maggie said, embarrassed. "I got some blood on your sheets. I thought I would take them back with me and wash them."

Lucille smiled at her as she took the bundle. "We are more than capable of washing the sheets."

"But..."

"Don't worry yourself anymore about it," Lucille said and disappeared down the hallway before Maggie could protest further.

"Where the fuck do you think you're going?" Murphy asked.

She narrowed her eyes at him. "Back to McGinty's," she said, "that's where the fuck I'm going. I still have a bar to run, you know."

"Maggie," Connor said, "you know, the fire did quite a bit of damage."

Her expression softened. "That's why I need to get back. I've got to start picking up the pieces some time. May as well be now."

He stuck his hands in his pocket. "Maybe I should go with you. Just to make sure everything is okay."

On the sofa, Smecker and Murphy looked at each other and then said, "Oooo..." while making kissy faces.

Connor scowled at them, but Maggie only smiled. "I suppose it would be easier to have someone there with me. But only if you want to go - I don't want to be anyone's obligation."

Ignoring the peanut gallery, Connor shook his head. "Not at all. I need to get away from these fuckers for a minute."

Maggie giggled. "Alright, then, lead the way."

As they headed toward the stairs, Murphy called to them. "Have fun, you two." He and Smecker fell into a convulsion of laughter. Connor shook his head and started down the stairs followed by Maggie. Without even looking back, she threw her arm out and flipped them both the bird.

As the laughter on the sofa faded, Murphy said, "I think I like her."

Sister Lucille reappeared, carrying a tray of sandwiches. She nodded back toward the stairs. "It appears those two have some unfinished business."

"Ha!" Murphy cried, snatching a sandwich from the tray. "You don't know my brother. He's not what you'd call a Casanova when it comes to the ladies."

"Oh, I don't know," said Bloom, "I think he'll figure it out."

Lucille smiled at Murphy. "And what about you? Are you on the market?"

He shook his head with a mouth full of food. He swallowed before he answered, "It would take some psychotic kind of girl to put up with my shit, Sister, someone just as fucked up as me. And I think Connor already found her." He shoved the rest of his sandwich into his mouth.

Lucille shook her head, "I'm sure she's out there somewhere."

Sister Josephine appeared seemingly out of nowhere. She was carrying a first aid kit in her hands. "Would you like me to see to that?" she asked Murphy, pointing to his shoulder.

Murphy smiled at her. "Why that would be lovely, thank you." He started following her down the hall.

Smecker scowled as he passed. "She's a nun, Murphy," Murphy ignored him. "She's married to Jesus," he called louder as the two of them disappeared into one of the rooms.

Lucille giggled. "I wouldn't worry about Josephine, she was a Marine before she took her vows. If he tries anything, she might just break his fingers."

"Good to know," said Smecker.

Then Lucille's tone turned serious. "Where will you go now?"

Bloom, who had been silently raiding the sandwich tray, swallowed the last of her croissant. "Boston is definitely not an option. We'll have to get out of town as soon as we can."

"All of you?" Lucille asked.

Smecker nodded. "It appears that Murphy is on board. Since we already faked his death anyway, he really has no choice. I guess it will be up to Connor whether he stays or goes."

3.

The front door of McGinty's had yellow tape stretched across the broken glass in an X shape calling for anyone who approached to keep away. Any police presence that may have put the barrier up was absent. Maggie and Connor stood and stared for a moment. "Sorry for the door. Murphy shot out the glass." He rubbed the back of his neck. "He can get carried away sometimes."

She shrugged. "I'll tell the insurance company that's how Mikey got in. They'll fix it."

"Maybe we should go round back," he suggested.

She set her jaw. "The fuck I will. This is my place and no god-damned strip of tape is going to keep me out of it."

Connor smiled as he followed her through the tape. She stood just inside the door, staring at the blackened bar. The fire extinguisher that Smecker and Bloom had used to put out the fire stood empty near the service well. Apparently they had been able to douse the flames before it could engulf the whole bar.

Glass from broken liquor bottles crunched under her boots as she walked aimlessly around the bar. Simply trying to process the last few days was making her head hurt. She found an intact bottle of tequila, pulled it from the back of the bar, and poured two shots. He picked his up. "Here's to fighting the good fight." Their glasses clinked and they threw the tequila back.

Connor screwed up his face. "I hate tequila."

"Yeah," Maggie said.

Then he became visibly uncomfortable. "Can I ask you something personal?"

Maggie giggled and poured another shot. "Connor, you've seen me strung out and hallucinating – talking to angels of all things – it doesn't get much more personal than that. Shoot."

"Yeah, it's actually about that," he said. "When Murph and I were in your room. You said that we couldn't help you because we made you. What did that mean?"

By this time, Maggie had found a loose strand of hair that she began twisting around her finger. "Man, I was so fucked up. Seeing things, ya know? There's no telling..."

He shook his head. "No, this was not part for your hallucination – or vision – or whatever you want to call it. This was different. You were different. Tell me what you meant."

She reached for the bottle again, but thought better of it and pushed it away instead. She grabbed Connor's smokes from the bar and lit one. "Okay, here goes. It was my senior year in college," she continued, "I was going to be journalist. The Yakavetta trial was going to be my thesis paper." She paused to take a long drag; blowing the smoke out slowly in a steady stream. "Then the three of you showed up. Waving your guns and spouting shit about being avengers for God. I didn't want to watch. But your da made me. He told me it all be over soon."

Realization crashed into Connor like a Mac truck as he flashed back to that fateful day in the courtroom. The whole ordeal had been mostly a blur. Everything had moved so quickly that the young girl in the front row who dared to look away had never truly registered. Now it was clear. Now he recognized her face. The face of what was left in the wake of their quest for vengeance.

"But it wasn't all over. It never was," she continued. "The image was seared into my brain like a fucking brand." She paused to collect her thoughts. "The pills started so that I could sleep at night. But the nightmares were worse than not sleeping. Then I started taking whatever I could to stay awake. Eventually, I was taking anything just to make myself forget. Everything that I had been raised to believe about my faith was ripped apart. All the talk about forgiveness and turning the other fucking cheek...it all meant nothing."

Connor could do nothing more than listen as she spilled her guts to him. He wondered idly why she wasn't screaming at him; telling him how fucked up her life was because of him and his family.

As if she was reading his thoughts, she continued. "I used to be angry. Pissed as shit," she said, crushing out her cigarette. "When Father O'Donnell asked me to pick you up at the Hoag, I almost said no."

"Why didn't you?"

She shrugged. "Partly because it was what Doc would've wanted; partly out of curiosity. I wanted to see what had happened to the men who changed my life all those years ago."

"And what did you find?"

She watched him for a moment as if she was trying to memorize his face. "You're different than I imagined you'd be. And over the past few days, well, I've seen and done alot of shit. I know why you do what you do now. You protect the innocent from dickheads that the loopholes in our fucked up justice system keep putting back on the street."

Letting out a small breath, Maggie took a step forward and walked with purpose to the back of the bar. Connor followed. At the far end of the bar, on a high shelf she reached up and grabbed a bottle, hugging it tightly to her.

"What's that?" he asked.

"I told you that Doc gave up his spot in the cemetery for your Da. Well, he had to go somewhere, right?" She set the whiskey bottle on the bar for him to see.

Picking it up to examine closer, he could see the ashes through the glass. He smiled. "Well, he's looking quite well, isn't he?" He set it back on the bar. "I thought Catholics weren't supposed to be cremated."

"At the end, he really didn't give two shits about what the Catholic Church had to say on the matter. "'Margaret, Darlin', when I go, burn me up and toss me ashes into the ocean! I always loved the ocean." She ran her finger along the bottle. "I just haven't been able to do it yet. It's the only thing I have left of him. Especially now that the bar is half gone."

Conner watched as various emotions crossed her face, but he had no idea how to respond. He figured the best thing to do was wait for her.

She let out an embarrassed laugh. "I guess it's kinda creepy isn't it? Keeping him in a whiskey bottle behind the bar. The last thing he said to me was, 'I'm proud of ye, Maggie. Take good care of yourself. And above all, make sure that you are happy.'"

Not really sure how he got there, Connor found himself standing in front of her. "And are you happy?" Then he thought better of it. "I mean, before all of this, were you happy?"

A slight blush crept across her pale cheeks but she managed to maintain eye contact with him. It was beginning to make him nervous. "Happiness is subjective, I suppose."

Still watching her, he lifted the bottle and set it back behind the bar.

"It goes on the top shelf," she said.

He smiled at her and put the bottle back in its rightful place. Unable to stand the tension any longer, he finally gave in and bent down to kiss her. It was light kiss for he was still unsure how she would respond. He needn't have worried. Maggie lifted onto her tiptoes and took the initiative to deepen the kiss. Connor's entire body was a mess of knots but still managed to do a number of somersaults. _Christ,_ he thought, _is this really something I should've started?_

His head was still swirling when she broke the kiss and looked at him through dreamy eyes. "Let's go upstairs," she said in a husky voice.

He reached up and pushed a stray piece of hair behind her ear. "Are you sure? I mean, after everything that's happened..."

"After everything that's happened," she said, "I could use a few moments of good in my life."

Connor raised an eyebrow. "Just a few moments?"

She shook her head and laughed. "Shut up and come on before I change my mind."

There was no argument left in him as she took his hand and guided him out from behind the bar, through the back, and up the stairs.

4.

It was the ringing of the bells that jolted both Connor and Maggie from their fitful rest. They sat straight up in Maggie's bed, looked at each other, then at the figure standing at the end of bed.

"What the fuck?" Maggie shouted, pulling the sheet up to cover her nakedness. Her sudden movement caused her to lose balance and she tumbled out of bed onto the floor, taking the sheet with her.

An exposed Connor scrambled for something to cover himself but had to make do with a pillow. "Da?"

Il Duce smiled at them both through gritted teeth hanging on to his ever-present cigar. He laughed as Maggie stood up, pulling the sheet tighter around her. "Don't worry, luv, you don't have anything that I haven't seen before."

"Yeah, well, I'd rather have the choice of who I expose myself to," she snapped.

"Feisty," he remarked, "I like you."

Connor, who now had a towel wrapped around his waist, joined them, "What are you doing here, Da?"

Il Duce cocked his head at his son and looked at him as if he should know the answer.

Maggie spoke instead. "It's about my vision, isn't it?" He nodded. "What did it mean? He said that I was supposed to carry on this crusade. But I wasn't...I couldn't..."

"Slight misunderstanding, darlin' that position had already been filled." He reached down and placed a hand on her stomach. "You were called for this. You are the vessel that shall carry forth the charge."

With wide-eyes, Maggie could barely manage to speak. "What are you...? You mean..." She looked at Connor whose flabbergasted expression mirrored her own, "No, that's not possible. I mean, we just..." Surely this couldn't be happening. She hadn't been with anyone in God knows how long. She gave an inward sigh. _I suppose this would be how it would turn out. First time out the gate, and I get knocked up._

Il Duce's playful gaze and her want to smack him. He glanced from Maggie to Connor, his smile fading. "My grandchildren will carry on. You and your brother have to protect them."

Connor nodded. "Yes, Da."

Maggie glared at him. _Is he being serious right now?_ "Yes, Da?' That's all you have to say?"

He locked eyes with her, a set expression on his face. "Yes."

"Did you know then?" she asked Il Duce, "At the court house that day, did you know this was going to happen?"

He shrugged. "I had a feeling, but that was all. Of course, I had no idea it was going to play out the way it did." He put his cigar back in his mouth and placed a hand on her cheek. "I am sorry for that. But it did bring you here."

It was at that moment that she finally understood, all of it. Everyone involved. None of them had chosen it. They had been chosen, and no matter what they said or did, they could not get away from it. Connor knew this to true, and now so did she.

5.

When she opened her eyes, her head was still on her pillow. She was laying on her side, half covered by a sheet; one leg hanging off the edge of the bed, the other entwined with Connor's. She turned to look at him to find that he was awake also. Together, they awkwardly sat up. Taking a deep breath, she ran a hand through her tangled hair. "Did that really just happen?"

He nodded and then reached over to touch her stomach through the sheet. "Yes."

A long minute seemed to stretch on forever as both of them searched for something to say. "Well, what do you think we do now?" she said.

He shrugged. "I guess we should get married?"

The words made her cringe even more than the uncertainty in his voice. She narrowed her eyes at him. "Are you out of your fucking mind?" Immediately she regretted her harsh tone when she saw his expression. Her face softened. "I mean, we pretty much just met, right?"

He gave her a small smile. "I suppose your right. Maybe we just play it by ear. We'll work something out."

She nodded. "Yeah, I think that would be a good idea."

He lay back on his pillow and gently prodded her to do the same. Glancing out the window, she could see that it was still dark outside, so she did, resting her head on his shoulder. He put his arm around her and pulled her a bit closer. This was not what she had planned when she had brought him up to her room. A quick romp. That was all she had expected. Then he would leave, and she would reopen the bar. Business as usual. Now they were bound together. She had no choice in the matter. She would mother his children, and they would follow in their father's footsteps. It was written. It was done.

To her surprise, the final realization brought with it a certain comfort. This was her calling. Those were the thoughts on her mind as she closed her eyes and drifted to sleep again.

6.

It was the sound of the door banging open that woke Connor again. He jerked up, shielding his eyes from the sunlight streaming in from the window. Maggie was right behind him.

"I knew it!" Murphy crowed from where he stood in the doorway. "Hey!" he yelled behind him, "I was right!"

"Well, bully for you." Smecker's faint voice came from downstairs.

Murphy skipped into the room and stood at the end of the bed.

"Christ!" Maggie yelled, pulling the sheets up around her. "Doesn't anyone in your family know how to fucking knock?" Connor was already pulling on his jeans.

Murphy cocked his head and raised an eyebrow. "What the fuck's that suppose to mean?"

When he finally located his t-shirt at the other end of the room, Connor shook his head. "I'll explain later."

"Why don't the two of you have that discussion downstairs," Maggie growled, searching the room from her place on the bed.

Connor grabbed his brother by the scruff of the neck and led him toward the door. "Not really a morning person is she?" Murphy quipped.

"Apparently not," Connor said. "Let's go."

Murphy stopped suddenly, stooped over and picked something up off the floor. "You'll probably need these," he said, flinging the lace underwear at Maggie. He dodged just in time to avoid the pillow aimed at his head, then bolted out the door before she could find something more dangerous to fling at him. Connor followed, closing the door behind him.

"There better be some fucking coffee made when I get downstairs!" Maggie yelled through the door.

"Whew," Murphy breathed, "I bet she gave you a helluva time last night."

"Shut the fuck up Murphy!" Connor growled, but Murphy was already half way down the stairs, laughing the entire way down.

Connor was relieved to find three Starbucks cups sitting on the bar when he arrived. He and Murphy grabbed one. Smecker was standing at the far side of the bar tossing darts at the board on the wall. Bloom was sitting on a bar stool with her legs propped up in the seat next to her. An opened newspaper his her face. She gazed over the top at Connor.

"I told him not to go up there," she said.

Connor glared at his brother before snatching the cigarette that he was about to light from his hand. Smecker put his darts down and returned to the bar, taking the seat next to Bloom's stilettos.

"Well?" Connor asked, "What's the plan?"

Smecker lit his own cigarette. "We've still got work to do."

"Doyle," Murphy said. "That fucker got away, we gotta track him down and cap his ass."

Smecker nodded. "Maggie wasn't exaggerating when she said that he could disappear. Apparently, he's got contacts all over the world. I've talked to a few people who gave me some directions to go in."

"Well, let's get going," Murphy said.

"Wait," said Connor, "there's something you need to know." He gave them an abridge version of the previous night's events, including the visit from Il Duce. As they listened, Smecker and Bloom exchanged worried glances, but didn't seem shocked. Murphy was the only one who expressed surprise.

"Jesus, Connor," he said, shaking his head, "you don't waste any fucking time, do you? Okay, so what now?"

Bloom finally dropped her feet from the chair and sat up straight. "Well, why don't we ask Maggie what she thinks."

They turned where Maggie was standing at the end of the bar. She had a bag duffle bag flung over her shoulder. She gave them each a resolute look. She had already made up her mind.

Smecker stood up, offering his hand to Bloom who took it and stood herself. "Looks like the decision has already been made," he said.

Maggie nodded, walked past Connor to the far end of the bar. She pulled the whiskey bottle down from the top shelf, gazed at it for a moment, and placed it in her bag. Looking around the bar for the last time, she mentally prepared herself for what was to come as they left McGinty's one by one and piled into the waiting hearse. This was her life now. For better or worse, she had been pulled into it for a purpose. She glanced down at her stomach. And now she knew what that purpose was.


End file.
